


Last Stand in Open Space

by shrift



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen, Unrealized Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-20
Updated: 2003-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it was a hell of a swing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Stand in Open Space

**Author's Note:**

> My response to the "unrealized reality" Farscape Friday drabble challenge, a variation on "Family Ties".

John and Aeryn once pretended they were Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but right now, he and D'Argo might be the real deal. Butch and Sundance. Bonnie and Clyde. A pair of crazy criminals with more balls than brains, making one last stand. They're gonna be famous.

Dead, but famous. John never wanted to be famous. Never wanted to be dead, either, no matter what his dad said when he first bought the bike.

D'Argo isn't breathing.

He hasn't been breathing for a while. John thinks maybe it's been too long, no matter how much D'Argo brags about his Luxan constitution.

Asphyxiation turns humans Delvian blue. It looks like an extended waltz in space is pretty much a Luxan tanning booth. Figures.

The Gammak base slowly burns down like a bonfire running out of wood, yellow flames flaring out and leaving behind red embers that reflect off his faceplate like radioactive rubies. That's his John Hancock down there in one smoldering mess of fused metal graffiti. DK always did say that John wasn't happy doing anything unless he did it big.

John's trying not to think about all the deaths he caused with his base-shattering kaboom. Did any of the heroes worry about the collateral damage from destroying the Death Star? Of course not. Would've ruined the award ceremony.

But that doesn't wash, and John knows it. He also knows that pretty damn soon, it won't matter if guilt nips at his heels like a yappy little dog. He doesn't really have time to brood, and there're only so many sucker punches a guy can take before he swings back.

And it was a hell of a swing.

His vision's blacking out. Soundless space rushing in his ears. He can hear his heart beating.

Checking the readouts doesn't do him any good. Staring at the alien symbols he doesn't know how to read won't change the fact that he's running out of oxygen, and D'Argo's running out of time. John knows that if Aeryn could get to them in her Prowler, she would have by now. Her last transmission cut out a while back, ending on a strident, "Crichton, I can't --"

Aeryn sounded scared. She probably got nabbed, but John's not thinking about that, either.

John tightens his grip on D'Argo's lax hand. "Hold on, buddy," he says to himself. "Hold on."

It's better than dying alone.


End file.
